They do concord love, and peace,
Would our enemies embrace,
Turn men prosleytes by the word,
Not by musket, pike, and sword.
They swear that for religion's sake
We may not massacre, burn, sack :
That the beginning of these pleas,
Sprang from the ill-sped A B Cs,
For servants that it is not well
Against their masters to rebel.
That that devotion is but slight,
Doth force men first to swear, then fight, That our confession is indeed
Not the apostolic creed;
Which of negations we contrive,
Which Turk and Jew may both subscrive.
That monies should men's daughters marry,
They on frantic war miscarry.
Whilst dear the soldiers they pay,
At last who will snatch all away.
And, as times turn worse and worse,
Catechise us by the purse.
That debts are paid with bold stern looks;
That merchants pray on their 'compt books;
That Justice dumb and sullen frowns,
To see in croslets hang'd her gowns;
That preachers' ordinary theme
Is 'gainst monarchy to declaim.
That, since leagues we 'gan to swear,
Vice did ne'er so black appear;
Oppression, bloodshed, ne'er more rife,
Foul jars between the man and wife;
Religion so contemn'd was never,
Whilst all are raging in a fever.
They tell by devils, and some sad chance,
That that detested league of France,
Which cost so many thousand lives,
And two kings, by religious knives,
Is amongst us, though few descry;
Though they speak truth, yet say they lie.
He who says that night is night,
That cripple folk walk not upright,
That the owls into the spring
Do not nightingales out-sing,
That the seas we may not plough,
Ropes make of the rainy bow,
That the foxes keep not sheep,
That men waking do not sleep,
That all's not gold doth gold appear-
Believe him not, although he swear.
To such syrens stop your ear,
Their societies forbear.
Ye may be tossed like a wave,
Verity may you deceive;
Just fools they may make of you;
Then hate them worse than Turk or Jew.
Were it not a dangerous thing,
Should we again obey the king;
Lords lose should sovereignty,
Soldiers hast back to Germany;
Justice should in our towns remain,
Poor men possess their own again;
Brought out of Hell that word of plunder,
More terrible than devil, or thunder,
Should with the covenant fly away,
And charity amongst us stay;
Peace and plenty should us nourish,
True religion 'mongst us flourish?
When you find these lying fellows,
Take and flower with them the gallows.
On others you may too lay hold,
In purse or chest, if they have gold.
Who wise or rich are in this nation,
Malignants are by protestation.
FROM Such a face, whose excellence
May captivate my sovereign's sense,
And make him (Phœbus like) his throne
Resign to some young Phaëton,
Whose skilless and unstayed hand
May prove the ruin of the land,
Unless great Jove, down from the sky,
Beholding Earth's calamity,
Strike with his hand that cannot err
The proud usurping charioter;
And cure, though Phœbus grieve, our woe—
From such a face as can work so,
Wheresoever thou 'st a being,
Bless my sovereign and his seeing.
FROM jests prophane and flattering tongues,
From baudy tales and beastly songs,
From after-supper suits, that fear
A parliament or council's ear;
From Spanish treaties, that may wound
The country's peace, the gospel's sound;
From Job's false friends, that would entice
My sovereign from Heaven's paradise;
From prophets such as Achab's were,
Whose flatterings sooth my sovereign's ear;
His frowns more than his Maker's fearing,
Bless my sovereign and his earing.
FROM all fruit that is forbidden,
Such for which old Eve was chidden;
From bread of labours, sweat and toil;
From the poor widow's meal and oil;
From blood of innocents oft wrangled
From their estates, and from that's strangled;
From the candied poison'd baits
Of Jesuits, and their deceits;
Italian sallads, Romish drugs,
The milk of Babel's proud whore's dugs;
From wine that can destroy the brain;
And from the dangerous figs of Spain;
At all banquets, and all feasting,
Bless my sovereign and his tasting.
FROM prick of conscience, such a sting
As slays the soul, Heav'n bless the king;
From such a bribe as may withdraw
His thoughts from equity or law;
From such a smooth and beardless chin
As may provoke or tempt to sin;
From such a hand, whose moist palm may
My sovereign lead out of the way;
From things polluted and unclean,
From all things beastly and obscene;
From that may set his soul a reeling,
Bless my sovereign and his feeling.
WHERE myrrh and frankincense are thrown,
The altars built to gods unknown,
O let my sovereign never dwell;
Such damn'd perfumes are fit for Hell.
Let no such scent his nostrils stain;
From smells that poison can the brain
Heav'ns still preserve him. Next I crave,
Thou wilt be pleas'd, great God! to save
My sov'reign from a Ganymede,
Whose whorish breath hath pow'r to lead
His excellence which way it list―
O let such lips be never kiss'd!
From a breath so far excelling,
Bless my sovereign and his smelling.
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